


The Lonely Dark

by medical_mechanica



Series: Nature versus Nuture [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Episode Ardyn Spoilers, Episode Prompto Spoilers, Final Chapter is Porn, Final Fantasy XV Royal Edition Spoilers, Flashbacks, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Oral Sex, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Touch-Starved, Toxic Relationships, Tragic Romance, Trauma Bonding, Unhealthy Relationships, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:36:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23435545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medical_mechanica/pseuds/medical_mechanica
Summary: “I told you--” Deftly, the end of his pistol met under Ardyn’s chin, brushing against the man’s ever present stubble. Bloodshot blue eyes hardened with threat, meeting amused shining amber. “I don’t have time for this,” Although even as the words repeatedly left the gunner’s lips, they fell hollow. The heat in his gaze cooled. The cursed man’s hands were already up in feigned innocence, a playful smirk upon his face. A bullet waited in the chamber. The night stretched on around them, even the distant deamons quiet. They existed within a pocket of isolation separate from the living world.It hadn't always been like this.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ardyn Izunia, Referenced Ardyn/Aera, Verstael Besithia/Ardyn Izunia, implied Gladio/Prompto
Series: Nature versus Nuture [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586023
Comments: 13
Kudos: 52





	1. beautiful dreams of violence

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this three years ago, and could not have possibly anticipated it being in anyway relevant. However, I've been working on it progressively ever since, and thought that I would finally post a part of it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter name from Chelsea Wolfe song "Fight Like Gods", listened to while writing it

“I don’t have time for this right now.”

  
  


Eyes lined with fatigue averted their gaze, set in a freckled face, wan and pale from too many days without sunlight. Falloff from the nearby floodlight on the side of the road was broken by long shadows of two figures, only serving to extend the starless night set around them. Prompto Argentum stood beside the engine of a stalled pickup truck, hands covered in grease on either side of it’s open hood. Ardyn Izunia loomed beside him, leaning onto the side of the truck.

Prompto pushed away, and away from the scarves and layers with their tendency of entangling him. Opening the driver side door, he sensed the presence at his back before he could feel it, hands in finger-less gloves coming round his waist with a gentle pull. With a grit of teeth and flash of light, he whipped around, catching himself on the edge of the door frame.

“I told you--” Deftly, the end of his pistol met under Ardyn’s chin, brushing against the man’s ever present stubble. Bloodshot blue eyes hardened with threat, meeting amused shining amber. 

“I don’t have time for this,” Although even as the words repeatedly left the gunner’s lips, they fell hollow. The heat in his gaze cooled. The cursed man’s hands were already up in feigned innocence, a playful smirk upon his face. A bullet waited in the chamber. The night stretched on around them, even the distant deamons quiet. They existed within a pocket of isolation separate from the living world.   
  
Slowly, Prompto’s stature tired, as it had for years, bending forward, the figure before him shifting to match. The scent of a decaying meadow washed over his senses. He almost knew what the man would say next before he said it.   
  
“Far be it from me to keep you from your work.”

Breath intermingled. Prompto found himself fixating on that damned smirk that could so easily be blown away with a twitch of his trigger finger, jutting the cold metal upward reminding himself that he could. That he  _ had _ , in the past. Just as he also hadn’t, letting the space between them to continuously contract.

Things hadn’t always been like this. Far from it. Years of anger, violence, sleepless nights and waking nightmares. Not that it had ever really ended. This was just one of those times he let the space between them close.

There was just no point in fighting.

The blaring of a truck horn cut through the darkness, and Prompto looked away to see a set of oncoming headlights. Cindy, on her way from Hammerhead to help him with the broken down pickup.   
  
And before him, there was nothing.

The relief that flooded him just barely overshadowed the disappointment that underlied deeper thoughts.

-

It hadn’t always been like this.

Of course it hadn’t, just like how you could once see the sun hanging in the sky. 

There used to be stars. And people and laughter and excitement. Hope. He used to be someone who hoped. Or at least, he used to think that he was.

Prompto used to never know his “father”. If you could even call him that.

Of course he had returned to the research facility. Of course he had ventured his way back to Niflheim after months of tracking down the abandoned facility. After years of uselessness, it was the least he could do. Try to figure out a way to reverse engineer the encroaching Darkness. Ignis had taken to research, despite his disability. Gladio to refugee aid. If Prompto's damned lineage was good for anything, it was worth trying to use it to fix the mess it had created. He had to do something. Anything to stave off the ever building gloom, always lingering on the outskirts of the wait. So he had bartered and fought his way back, across the ocean, through a virtual wasteland with a train running through it. Fortunately, once he reached the tundra, he came to find the cold a little friendlier, the terrain a little more forgiving. Although, in the annals of his mind, the fact that his companions wouldn’t be missing him was strangely freeing. It replaced the heavy panic that had weighed him down the last time he had been there, steeped in fear that he was never really loved, that what he had known was a lie. 

What fear had fed now starved under loss. That creeping longing to flinch was gone. All that remained was a depth less void, one that time and purpose felt continuously lost to. The trail of wreckage made the research facility easy to find as he approached the mountains, although the deamons wandering the entrance had made it significantly harder to enter. Stealth had become key over the years, and before Prompto knew it he found himself standing in the doorway to a subterranean level.

The place was a mess. Wrecked first by its purpose, halls just as desolate as he had last seen them, then further ruined by time. The cold had crept in, as if Shiva herself had finally taken revenge on its existence. Former hallways led to cave ins, papers still scattered about, docking bays ripped open, leaving a silent snow to fall directly down into its depths. There was no remaining threat to be had, Besithia’s final project having laid to waste much of the surrounding area and its inhabitants. No life remained.

It was an odd solace in the eerie sterile environment of the decimated laboratory. In the length of hallways, dark and rusting, broken and empty labs desolate and deteriorating, Prompto found himself oddly relieved. No one was around to trap. No one left to hurt.

It had occurred to him, in passing, that his search through the rubble might have been in vain, that he had come all this way only to find cold stone and trashed metal remnants. For what little paperwork and files he could find were scattered to the winds, waterlogged and frozen, nothing pertained to anything worth knowing about the Darkness, the Scourge, or even himself.

Squatting in a long hall torn open and exposed to the elements, wind whipped through Prompto’s bangs. In his hands, were papers, stained and waterlogged from a folder in yet another damaged file drawer, emptied and semi-frozen. Devoid of use. Looking out over the rent metal, curled and shorn away, aged by winter, it occurred to Argentum that he stood in nothing but an elaborate tomb, not unlike the sort he had ventured to find in his youth. Idly, he imagined what it might look like when someone else eventually found the ruins of this place, years and years down the line. It was there he decided to lay the idea of finding any sort of clues to rest. It stung, the frustration of futility, and deeper still, from the underlying curiosity sprung from not being under duress in the only place known to have any information on his creation. 

Then, a door down the hall from him activated. Lights, vents, and generators flickering back on, like a broken corpse reanimating, air rushing into its lungs. Verstael was long since dead. There was only one other being in existence that could know how to activate any part of the facility.

The gunman’s heart sank, sighing in place.

“Not again.”

He stood, quickly loading his pistol. At the ready, he took the only avenue available to him, standing before the unlocked door. Grimacing, he held out his arm, exposing his barcode to the lock. It opened. A few of the hallway lights remained on in some spots down the long corridor before him, but beyond that was nothing but darkness.   
  


It spelt nothing but trouble for Prompto, that much was certain, but coursing through him remained that curiosity. A yearning. He jumped at what might have been the only remaining opportunity to learn anything about the Crystal, the Darkness, anything at all.    
  
Venturing forth, he passed through the unlocked door and back down into the lower levels of the research facility.

He moved quickly, passing through the shadows of the hallway as if they would grow hands that would reach out and grab for him, senses on alert. Time moved slowly, or at least, it felt as though it did. The air warmed around him, uncomfortably so. Still, he heard nothing, saw no movement. Not even a dilapidated Magitek Trooper. He almost wished for a disruption, something to warrant the discomfort. Anything other than running into who he knew was waiting for him somewhere within the complex. He was more than the scared boy running around without direction. More than the hapless hostage, a pawn made to be rejected and tossed aside. Prompto was different now, searching for more than just a way out. 

He wanted answers.

The hallway stretched on into a labyrinth of flickering lights, and empty weapons caches. He hooked around doorways, already open, his rage an increasing itch that was running up his spine. Of course, it could have been a trap. Everything, always, was most likely a trap. What did it matter? He had always told himself he might go down fighting. Steeling himself to the idea of falling off the map without another word to Iggy or Gladio, never again to see the one person he waited for, he kept pushing on. His attachments slowly slipped away from his mind. He was in too deep.

Still, no movement, no sign of life. For all Prompto knew, he could have been the last living thing in the entire facility.

Tension rose in his shoulders, stature aching for the time that he held it. Boots thudded hard down a flight of stairs he had leap down, daring anything and anyone to reveal themselves to him. Coming to lurk down the hall, another open door hung before him, bidding him onward by an invisible guide. It brought him to a dark room, similar to so many others he had already seen in that fucking bunker, that was, at least, until he looked up. It was different. In tact, for one thing.

Everywhere, lining the walls, in place of artillery, were books. With a distant clunk of machinery, lights switched on, casting a cold illumination over the entire room. With it, Prompto could finally spot the odd decor of the room. Expansive murals he had seen before, in Lucis. The strangest urge gripped him, tilting his head in curiosity as he looked about the room. There was a table off to the side, and as he approached it, a vaguely sick feeling washed over him. It was a map of Eos. Across from that, a weird cage, and across from that, dried bones in a display case, shattered glass the only indication that the room was no longer in use. 

It was research, all of it. All belonging to-- To Besithia.

There were files upon files, some scattered about the room, others awkwardly sticking out of books and binders littering the shelves. Wandering up to a coffee table, he wiped off a layer of undisturbed dust to see a collection of scribbled notes. Log dates, details about Immortalis, among other things, but nothing pertaining to the Scourge. Questioning eyes scanned the room once more, coming to rest on the strange cage that stood in stark contrast to the rest of the room. Making a face, he found himself approaching it, finding it completely empty, nonfunctioning. It’s foreboding countenance cast strange shadows along the walls, bars that lined the once magnificent mural, torn and ripped from its place on the wall.   
  


It was almost enough to distract him from the footfalls that sounded behind him. Spinning on his heel, Prompto raised his gun to face -- empty air. Nothing.   
  


“Dammit,” He uttered, the hair on the back of his neck raised. For several long moments, nothing else happened. Leaving him stiff, pistol aiming at nothing. The gunman was alone, or at least he was being led to believe as much. Brought back to task, he ran back over to the bookshelves, ignoring the way the caked dust rose as he ran a finger along the bindings. He was looking, looking, not even sure what for or what it would even look like, but still, his eyes ran across the strange theses and titles, frantic. He grit his teeth, a slowly growing terror rising, as if just by existing in that space his very being was under threat. Just when he thought he would snap, he came across a strange title.   
  
‘Prolonged Isolation and Its Effects on The Human Psyche’

It brought Prompto to a standstill, begging him to examine it further. He pulled out the binder, old and cracking, easing it open for the first time in what was most likely decades. In it held pages notes, military memos, and reprinted results of previous experiments. Hapless test subjects, photos and briefs, test summaries, and grant applications. A lot of it was technical jargon, about something called the ‘hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal axis’, hormone responses in the body, serotonin disruptions and plenty of things Prompto didn’t care to fully comprehend. He was about to return the book to the shelf, when he flipped a page to see an all too familiar face. His own. Or at least, one of many lookalikes. Sunken eyes, wide with terror, in a frozen shock. A cadaver. Beside it was a written entry, scribbled in pen, more of a personal note than anything official looking.

‘ _ M.E. 723 - After successful reintegration of test subject Adagium into modern society after a preternaturally extended amount of time in complete captive isolation, I have decided to replicate the conditions of isolation using a baseline test subject from the most recent batch of my genetic replicants. Although I do not expect to achieve anything close to the success of Adagium’s reintegration, I postulate that a prolonged period of diminished stimulation will better lend to a more easily attainable ego death to aid in the process of sublimation. _ ’

Prompto’s stomach dropped. His earliest memories, snippets that crept up on him in dreams, or nightmares, the ones he wished most to forget, were of just that. Existing but- Nothing. Not quite life, but not quite death, not even capable of any thought. As it had been with so many others, he had come to understand. Between then and the rest of his life, it was a blur. There had been no one, and then everyone. It was so brief of a blip of time in his life, that it had been easy to write it off as a bad dream. But of course, it hadn’t been.

It never ceased to amaze him just how cruel and inhumane the scientist had been. He flipped the pages back, breath shuddering, as curious as he was dreading seeing another dead face so like his own, when at once he came to another standstill.

Ardyn.

At least, what looked to be a very old intake photo of him, stood up against a white backdrop, expression devoid of emotion, save for intense despair, red hair long about his face. ‘Adagium’ was written just below it. From two years prior from the last entry Prompto had read. 

“No way.”

In his mind, the pieces clicked together. Turning the pages, only to see more photos and explanations, citing other papers and articles. Ardyn locked away in some kind of cell, medical test results, close up photos of wounds freshly healed over. That he had been found after years of searching. That he held ‘the potential might of a God’. After a ‘Millennia of isolation.’

It was some kind of a sick joke.

“I see you’ve found my first photograph, I’m flattered.”

The phrase curled around him like smoke, and Prompto did not need to turn around to know exactly who it was, nor did he even jump at the presence that was almost so certain it nearly came as a relief. Snapping the binder shut, he placed it back on the shelf. Ignoring the presence behind him, the gunman continued to scan the shelves for information pertaining to the Starscourge.

“If you’re interested, I can show you the paper regarding my discovery,” The voice behind him offered helpfully, reverberating just enough in the empty room for the gunman to feel it. He gave no reaction.   
  
“Your father wrote so eloquently of my capture-”

“That’s not why I’m here.” Prompto finally snapped in reply, rage barely contained in his tone. He pulled out another book, his one labelled ‘Photosynthesis in Affected Organic Mass; Starscourge and Living Tissue’. Pacing several steps away with his find, he scanned the materials quickly, flipping through them in double time.

“No, of course not,” Ardyn’s tone sounded… Depressed? Disappointed? Not that it mattered.

Just as Prompto progressed through, desperately searching for any sign of the sickness relenting, any kind of experiment that failed to infect a living creature, he could sense the footsteps behind him. Shoulders tensed, and he resisted the urge to draw his weapon. He would have been too slow anyway.

“You know, I had always found his desire for immortality a strange obsession. He never knew what it was that he asked for,” Ardyn’s voice grew softer, more pensive. Almost wistful. Prompto growled, not looking up from his thumbing through the pages. He must have been only a few paces behind him.   
  
“If only he knew. Your father-”

“STOP calling him that. He was not my ‘father’. ” Prompto bit back again, bile rising in the back of his throat. He couldn’t stand the thought of being related to such a monster, page after page of grotesque research unfolding before him.

The room grew quiet after that for a moment, and he nearly checked behind him to see if Ardyn was even there. A shift in step alerted Prompto to the fact that, yes, he was still in fact in the presence of the being he hated the most on all of Eos. With a sharp sigh, he continued to look through the book, coming to the end in failure. He shoved it back onto the shelf.

“Everything he was, you are.”

This finally got Prompto to whip around, finally setting eyes on the creature he loathed. Ardyn stood before him, a melancholy expression etched onto his face.   
  
“I am -nothing- like him,” He spat, about ready to tackle the man on the spot and attempt to strangle him for the suggestion, immortality be damned.

“No,” Ardyn stated plainly. “You are better.”

Prompto balked. Speechless.


	2. into the brighter night

Pale fluorescent light flickered on in the sterile room, from their 25% dimmed state to untenably bright at 100%. Six am, and the doors slid open as they always did, and familiar booted steps entered the room, before approaching the cot on the floor.

The test subject, asleep in the cot, stirred. “Time already?” A tired voice queried. An emptied wine bottle tipped off the edge of the bed as the form inside of it sat up. Long red hair fell about shoulders, made unkempt by rest.   
  
“It is,” A cold voice replied back. Curtly kicking the bottle across the room as it rolled before him, the researcher approached his subject with a simple, standard issue medical kit in hand. Without pause, he came to sit on the edge of the cot, placing his bag down on the ground and opening it. “It’s not as if you truly sleep, however, so I am not interrupting anything.” Verstael Besithia tacked on helpfully, smiling as he waited for his subject to comply. Blinking himself aware, Ardyn rolled up his sleeve to hold out his arm for the taking.

“It appears that you have gotten the hang of this, finally,” Besithia stated as he pulled out a stethoscope from the bag, slipping it around his neck. With it came the cuff to measure the subject’s blood pressure, or whatever substance his heart was pumping.   
  
“It is easier when the company is pleasant,” The being who had once been known to the researcher only as ‘Adagium’, quipped. It was getting increasingly hard to tell whether Izunia was being sincere, Besithia would note. It was of profound interest to him, the subject’s identity manifesting after so many years of solitary confinement, a little different after every sublimation. For months upon months, an initial team of eight would run a gamut of tests on the subject every morning, taking readings on everything from his weight to his urine. Besithia had been among them, yes, but as a supervisor, while others were more hands on. Adagiuim had been difficult at first, reluctant to be studied, or even distrubed, and they lost their fair share of guards to him at first. Then, the incident with Ifrit changed everything, but all according to design. 

After a pair of researchers had ended up on the wrong end of the subject’s sublimation ability, it was possible that the test subject had absorbed some of their insight regarding their testing, and ultimately, he began to grow more cooperative. As Besithia saw nothing but positives to this process, he allowed the creature increased agency in the testing process. Ultimately, it led to no more than the Chief Researcher himself running lone diagnostics on the project that had quickly become his darling.

His subject was amicable with the development, eventually allowing Besithia increased access to his person, the only living being allowed so close to him for sustained periods of time.

With one practiced movement, Verstael Besithia quickly folded his stethoscope into a sphygmomanometer wrapped around Ardyn’s arm, while hooking the other ends into his ears. Both men stilled, although within several seconds, the fatigued subject’s eyes had slid shut in a calm. Meanwhile, the researcher remained hyper-focused, staring at his watch for several long moments. The moment the reading was complete, he withdrew the equipment from the subject’s arm, tucking it back into his bag, only to pull out a worn out notepad, whipping it open to list the findings. The test subject was already alert again, pulling off his shirt over his head entirely, just as Besithia leaned in and hooked the instrument back into his ears, pressing the other end to the subject’s chest, moving it progressively across his torso. Gloved fingertips lightly guided their way over skin, marred with the timeless scars of imprisonment, listening to impossible breath pass through lungs. It never ceased to amaze the researcher, he had been able to calculate that every instance he made contact with the subject’s skin during the process, his heart rate increased exponentially. 

Once more, they came to a standstill, Verstael distantly observing Ardyn’s pectoral, while he watched the researcher’s gaze, breathing deeply for several more moments. At every movement, both subtly shifted, Besithia’s reach never strained as Ardyn accommodated him. It was a slow and oddly choreographed dance perfected day by day. That too ended, notes taken, and the next test began with a speedy swipe of an alcohol coated swab, a simple blood sample extracted from his arm. The syringe had gotten smaller from where they had started, fortunately, but it never seemed to fill with anything over than oozing black ink blood. That too proceeded as intended, which left Besithia closing the latch on a bag full of fresh samples ready to be taken back to the lab.

Still sitting on the bed beside the creature, the researcher smiled, a constant smirk he was unable to contain ever since their fateful day with the Infurnian. “And how are you feeling this morning?”

Ardyn let himself fall back into bed and blinked back up at Verstael, disdain in his eyes.   
  
“I feel like you should end your experiment to see how much alcohol it takes me to become completely inebriated,” The test subject replied woefully, draping an arm across his head. Verstael let out a laugh, glancing over at the collection of empty bottles that had collected about the room.

“I’m afraid that is an experiment you are running entirely on yourself, my friend.”

Adryn gave him a questioning look, to which Verstael raised a considerate brow. The moniker had been picked up only recently by the blond, after the man had deamonified the Infurian and embraced the aiding of his research. “I _ may _ be recording how alcohol consumption affects your test results,” The researcher’s admission comes offhandedly, “Your rate of consumption is entirely your own, however.” 

“I would not be driven to drink so, had I more to do than running the same gamut of tests day in and day out. Unless today will be different?” He questions testingly, only to receive a stern shake of the head in response. Apparently, the researcher noted, even after waiting for a millenia to be rescued, the creature was quickly growing antsy with the repetition of activity within his new space.

A diagnostic began the day, followed by stamina testing, another diagnostic, strength testing, diagnostic, UV testing, a meal and yet another diagnostic, a bout of combat testing, a final diagnostic, and a few hours of downtime before sleep and another day of the same. Other researchers would step in to run things when Besithia himself was called away to oversee another project or test subject, but somehow, he always made it back for the day’s final diagnostic. 

“After you defeated the Infurnian, we’ve had to establish an entirely new set of baseline test results,” Besithia began dismissively, turning to grab his kit bag, “Surely you understand-” His arm was gripped hard, bringing his attention back to the figure on the cot. Ardyn was staring him down pleadingly. The grip around his arm was not tight, but it had come fast, fast enough where Verstael was tasked to note the man’s control versus his reaction time.

“I have done all that you have asked of me,” Came the desperate mutter from the ancient being. “Let me go to Lucis.” Ardyn added, firmer. Besithia hardened, prying the hand from his arm. The researcher was not to be touched. Ardyn had insisted he visit his old homeland, to see what he had come to glimpse in the memories of others. He wished to see what ‘the might of the Crystal had wrought’. Besithia had no interest in any adjustment to his timeline, however. These two points were not to be contested. 

“If you need more stimulation, I will consider another change in testing methods,” The researcher responded, plucking up the bag and standing. Ardyn grimaced as the blond turned around to leave, blanket sinking suddenly as his form evaporated into miasma only for him to reappear before the exit just before Besithia approached. The researcher wore a stoic glare in response, otherwise unphased.

“Promise me,” the creature demanded, tone deep, unnerved at the edges. Amber eyes sunk into darkened yellow pitted voids. Brow furrowed, Verstael frowned. After a beat, however, his mood lightened, struck by a sort of inspiration.   
  
“Yes, I believe I can come up with something that will yield a dearth of information, both useful for our research and stimulating for you. You’ll receive word from me within the hour. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Ardyn looked upon him suspiciously, before softening. He stepped aside, allowing Besithia access to the exit.

“I will see you tonight,” Besithia stated, before he promptly stepped out of the room.

-

They stood opposite one another on the walkway before the bookshelf, the aged fluorescent lights blinking just slightly too slowly to be ignored. Somehow, it made time feel slower, and Prompto wondered if it was the other’s doing.

“Every trace of your being, every drop of blood in your veins, is an exact duplicate of his,” Ardyn began, taking a step closer. For once, he didn’t wear his usual smug countenance, but an expression of simple wonder, as if seeing the blond for the first time. It was positively unsettling. “And yet, you are everything he was not, and that he could never be,” Another step even closer, and Prompto found himself breathless, eyes trained on Ardyn’s brow... “He would never understand what an accomplishment you are. The last one left alive.” Ardyn came to stop just before him, a quietly contemplative glint in his eye.

The room, the entire research facility, all of Niflheim could have come to a stop as their gazes met. It was short lived, however.

“What do you want?” Prompto asked, his tone not nearly as sharp as he had wanted it to be, but latent spite present. 

Izunia shrugged, gesturing about the room. “Why, I only want to help you learn about your origins, after all. Who better to do it than I?” And just like that, the sickeningly teasing tone had returned. The comment bit hard, and the pistol flashed into Prompto’s hand.

“You know that’s not why I’m here!” Voice raising, the barrel of the gun was leveled at Ardyn’s head. The smirk that met it was maddening.

“Isn’t it? You’ve never wondered what it is that has haunted you for so many years?” Izunia’s hands still raised, the man softened. “You need to know if there’s anything you can do,” Ardyn looked sympathetic then, a fingertip meeting the bottom of Prompto’s chin. Gritting his teeth, he remained frozen in place. Ardyn sighed “... having been left alone for so long.”

The pistol fired as the man disappeared.

Prompto screamed in unrestrained fury, turning and shoving a shelf of books to the floor. The binder with the notes on isolation opened to Adagium’s page once more, emotionless photo staring back at him, leaving him in sickened disbelief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter name from Son Lux song "Dream State", listened to while writing it


	3. where the beast and the beauty coalesce

Ardyn had battled plenty of beasts at Besithia’s behest, behemoths from the mountains, Malboros from the swamps, cutting them down in record time for an endless audience of researchers. His skill, at least in a controlled setting, couldn’t be matched. So, when Besithia had told him that he had ‘come up with something’, he had assumed the Chief Researcher had come up with yet another monstrous beast to pit him against. However, when he entered the hanger where strength testing was usually held, there was a different sight awaiting him. Several writhing forms laid on the ground in shadow, bound in a row of twelve on the ground. As he approached, he realized, they were humans --or what had once been humans, before some amount of deammonification set in.

The closest one to him was a body, twisted and deformed, with too many limbs and joints, that wore the face of a gagged, panicked, and decaying person.

“What is this?” Ardyn called out, knowing somewhere behind the double sided mirror far above him was a team, monitoring him.

“This is our newest test, made especially for you,” Verstael’s tinny voice came over the loudspeaker, “All of these wretched creatures were enemies of the State, Lucian spies sent here to uncover information about our research.” The fallen savior blinked at blind eyes that bore into him, as if aware of him, begging for death. ”We applied a new interrogation technique to urge them to disclose their true mission, but they declined.” The information clicked into place.

“And you want me to extract any remaining information?” Ardyn finished, looking up to the mirror.

“Preciscely,” The voice on the other end of the loudspeaker responded darkly.

It stood to reason, even the little that he had gleaned from the assassins sent the night he had been freed had told him so much of the present day, every mind sublimated granted him a little bit more knowledge. This would be no different.

Research Chief Besithia’s eyes widened as he looked out over the entire floor from his station high above, smirking in delight as his favorite test subject dissolved before his eyes, only to appear directly before the first of the squirming masses of flesh set out across the hangar. Looming in, Verstael watched Ardyn deamonify the first victim. With only a few fluid motions, the shadow fluttered across the space, each crumpled pile of twitching limbs disintegrating into iridescent black ash, spiralling out into the void. Some short lived screams tried to choke out fractured mouths, although none wouldn’t make it through to the research team from their perch, Verstael could imagine it. One after another after another.  
“Make sure to monitor the levels of gaseous residue in the air after he has finished,” He demanded of the harried assistant beside him. Before him stretched several consoles, bleating and beeping into the aura of terse glee that surrounded the studious blond. Within mere moments afterward, the creature below them came to a standstill. None of the original occupants of the room remained.

“Excellent,” The general’s voice sounded from the loudspeaker high overhead.

The ancient being stood on the harsh metal flooring, panting, before the room spun. Rolling out from under it, Ardyn was brought to his knees, too busy with the rush of thoughts pressed upon his mind to notice. Dates, telephone numbers, input codes, names, birthdays, families, marriages--

“Have him assessed and brought back to his room once he awakes.” Besithia ordered, before exiting the small room of mechanical beeps with a confident stride.

Making his way down the long hallway back to his quarters, he smiled broadly to himself. Passing several patrols of guards, he waited until the doors of the room slid shut and locked behind him. Finally he pulled out his personal recorder. Walking up to a chair to grip it’s back, he cleared his throat before pressing ‘record’.

“In continuation of my previous log entry, the initial stage of my earlier thesis is finally complete. Adagium has been subjected to the sublimation of 12 Type D humans. Not only is he expected to uncover invaluable intel for our cause, but he has now been privy to the psyches of several test subjects to whom human interaction has been severely, if not entirely, limited for several months. Of the initial set of 24 test subjects, these 12 were chosen on the basis of their marked resilience under aggressive interrogation techniques. If I am correct, their prolonged isolation will have made them more easy to sublimate. The second stage of this experiment will commence later this evening, during routine diagnostics.”

The recording played back loud in the empty research lab. Prompto groaned in disgust. The small cassette fell to the floor, before it cracked under the weight of the gunner’s booted heel.

-

The first visit had come as a shock. It shouldn’t have, somehow. Time had blurred for a period after the sunlight had finally faded. There wasn’t a lot to retain in the face of so much panic and incoming dread. In retrospect, none of it should have been a surprise, but it didn’t stop the guilt, or confusion, or pointless sense of betrayal. It would be years before he would realize any of it.

Prompto had returned from the research facility several months prior, with everything he could discover on the Starscourge. Several other files pertained to the subject of cloning, and one particular folder tucked away deep into his inventory was labelled ‘Adagium’. While a few had made their way to the others for review, the latter remained with Argentum, stashed in the space between a meager bed and the wall of his caravan on the outskirts of Hammerhead’s burgeoning compound.

The freckled face gunman often found himself on patrol around Hammerhead. He preferred the night sky, although it was almost the same as the sky during the day, there was a frequent calm in the middle of the night that could not be found elsewhere, a welcomed stillness. Everyone was asleep. Deamons wandered freely, and there was an odd relief to always being on alert, not buried in some made up perceived social slight, but a real life and death scenario. All of the usual anxiety static that buzzed in his brain had quieted, or maybe the background noise of his reality had amped up.

At first, it was a welcome reprieve, that there were less people out to guard during the early hours of the morning. Less to happen, less to watch out for. However, as days slipped by and time began to lose meaning, all had to adjust to the lack of daylight. Shift work became staggered. Suddenly, there were far more things to worry about. Cars full of people at the wrong place at the wrong time. Some so close to making it to safety, only to fail at the last moment.

And, in a sick twist of fate, less and less people made it through Hammerhead at all. It had nearly been an entire year since he had left for the research facility, still self-designated to Hammerhead, still working the same patrol that fell during the latest hours, all to stare out into the nothing in solitude.

Prompto had convinced himself that the trip out of Lucis hadn’t been a waste. Some of the notes on the ‘plasmodia’ had lent to the invention of a better UV security lamp. They had been based on a similar process that had been what that creepy cage had been a part of, generating artificial sunlight. At some point, it had dawned on Prompto who it must have been crafted for, finding several sheets of notes, but he had never given it much mental real estate since he had gotten back. He hadn’t even really looked through his spare findings, now creased by the pillow in his bed. There had always been something better to do, people to be helping, no time to sit and hate read a thing. While a curious itch remained, there was a foreboding wariness that overwhelmed it, leaving it crushed and dogeared sandwiched beside the bed for months.

That changed when he came in one day from said patrol, walking into his darkened bedroom, his vest in hand, boots already removed and sitting outside the door.

There, on his bed, sat a very comfortable looking Ardyn Izunia, scarf lazily tossed around broad shoulders, collar and vest lazily open. Coat, boots, and hat, were all placed dutifully in the closet. The ancient man thumbed through the file folders that were no longer shoved beside Prompto’s bed left to be forgotten. The sheer sight of it all left him aghast, jaw dropping before he dropped his vest to the floor and raised a quickly appearing gun up to the form before him.

  
“What the hell do you think you are doing?!” He demanded.

  
“As I’ve said, I’m flattered that you should take such interest in my backstory.” The comment was so casual, so flippant, and too meta for Prompto to feel comfortable hearing. Ardyn shut the folder in his lap.

  
“If you wanted to know more about the past, you could have just asked.”

“So, you think you can just break in and--?”

“Oh, of course, silly me.” Ardyn stood up, form quickly evaporating before Prompto’s eyes. Just as the blond wanted to groan, there was a knock at the door. With a roll of his eyes, the gunman walked back to the front door of the RV, opening it to the still very undressed form of Izunia. The annoyed look on Prompto’s face read nothing but contempt.

“May I come in?”

“No.” With that, the scowling blond slammed the door in his face. With a disdained sigh, he turned around slowly, knowing without having to know, that the man stood behind him. Ardyn nonchalantly toyed with his hat in one hand, the other holding his folder steadily over his heart.  
Giving the blond an even look, he handed the file folder back, before walking over to the fold out table, placing his hat down. “Time, stretching on for an unknown infinite span, body wracked with unimaginable pain, staring into an endless abyss. Awaiting a reprieve that never comes.” Izunia sighed. The gunman remained on edge, although his weapon remained at his side. Neither moved.

“What are you doing here?” Leaving his mouth, the words sounded more confused than anything.

“Why, I bring you a gift. As you seem to have taken interest in our past.”

This had been an eventuality Prompto had prepared for, yet never fully considered. Expecting the worst, he adjusted the grip on his gun.

“‘We’ don’t have a past. I don’t want anything from you.” In some way, this entire conversation was far less angry than Prompto had anticipated, instead of something more like what had happened back in the Research Facility. This was civil. He waited for the other shoe to drop.  
Ardyn picked up his hat from the table, revealing a tin box just small enough to fit underneath it.

“You have trouble sleeping. This is to aid you in that endeavor.” He gestures to the tin. The statement threw Prompto for a loop, who cringed.

“How did you find _that_ out?”

“Your fa--” At that, the sound of the gunman cocking his pistol broke the quiet, which was raised to aim at Ardyn’s chest. “Verstael.”  
Prompto looked as if he was about to spit at just the mention of the man. Ardyn opened the tin, holding it out for him to see. The smell greeted him before anything. Floral, gentle and sweet, with rest promised just behind.

“Lavender, valerian, chamomile.”

“You’re giving me _tea_?” The gunman questioned, dropping his aim. It sounded ridiculous. He shot the accursed man a questioning look, before he took a step in to look at it. It was only tea.

“How do I know it won’t kill me? Or take my magic? Or just… Why? -- I don’t want it.” He pushed the tin away.

“Lavender only grows in Tenebrae, valerian root is manufactured in a facility in Gralea. The chamomile from right here in Lucis. It’s a collection told to me by a dear someone a very long time ago.” Ardyn only smiled, and it struck Prompto that he couldn’t not look malicious. Especially smiling.

“So? All of that mass murder and revenge getting boring? You’re making tea now?” Prompto’s tone was bitter, but it felt right, and nothing was making sense anyway.

“Mass murder and revenge that will one day bring about a new era across all of Eos, and yes. I make tea.”

The blond continued to stare uneasily, poised for an attack that wasn’t coming.

“... I noted your use of my bed,” Ardyn continued playfully. Again, it baffled Prompto, but only briefly.

-

The lab was silent.

The results of Argentum’s rage in Iznuia’s wake ultimately had no real effect on the state of the room from when he had found it, discarded pages ripped from file folders tossed aside into broken shards of glass and plastic. All melded into a cloud of dust under fluorescent lighting. Drained, it had left Prompto panting on a long forgotten couch, moth eaten and worn. His ragged breathing the only sound in the room, he was too angry to calm down, but too worn to move. With a growl, he kicked at the coffee table before him, and it skid forward on the plated metal flooring with a loud groan that at least felt appropriate.

What was Ardyn playing at? Why? Was this just another one of his insane ways to keep himself preoccupied while they waited for Noctis? Most likely. Meaning whatever Ardyn said or did was meaningless. He eased up then, somehow relieved. Everything was meaningless.

Defeated, Prompto melted into his seat, head in his hands. Several long moments stretched on, all in a deafening silence. All in all, there was absolutely no sign of the accursed man or any of his tricks. Finally having collected himself, Argentum set to reviewing the remaining shelves he had yet to survey. At any moment, the gunner expected another rude interruption, but encountered nothing. It took him hours of scouring, looking through report after horrific report, listening to warbled and dated audio recordings that made him loathe every cell of his original being a little more.

Slouched into a creaking chair, he listened to another droning log entry by Besithia. The man tended to go on, and was very much into the sound of his own voice. _Do I sound like that? I don’t sound like that._ The thought was fleeting. “Another test -zzz- Another failure, the first run of sublimation results on my genetic replicants has --zzz--” Sitting up, Prompto hit the clunky button that controlled the recorder, trying to rewind its contents. “ -’ll see what we can do. There appears to be an rejection of plasmodia in certain subjects who --zzz--”  
At last, he ran into a bit of luck, reviewing the listed log date and collecting several more articles in quick succession. Finally, after what felt like days, he bound up the file folders and set off back up to stairs toward the exit.

With a long, drawn out sigh, Prompto looked out over the remnants of research thrown about and broken throughout the room. It felt like he had swam up from a crushing weight of endlessly cruel research, full of horrors and inhumane experimentation. He looked back on his earlier thought on how the room might look the day that it’s ruins were eventually found, years and years into the future. It struck the gunman in that moment exactly how he wanted the room to look.

A glorious glow of white light proceeded the weight that Prompto pulled into his arms from nothing, machinery already buzzing as he swung it low to the ground, a hot burning glow exploding outward as he looped, electricity sizzling and popping out of a Recoil, and landing a bursting cackling light right onto the map of Eos, covered in mounds of old research. It all went up in a satisfying blaze, a dry kindling catching throughout the ground floor of the room. Smoke just as quickly accompanied it, rising throughout the air, meeting Prompto’s nostrils with sickly fumes.

Just as quickly as it had caught however, a brief red flash of light went off somewhere and died in a warping cry; an old smoke alarm. With a loud crash, a waterfall broke from the ceiling and cascaded down to the burning ground. It took him a moment to realize that the falling water came from a sundered pipe that had once been the sprinkler system. Wet soot formed where burning paper had been, and the gunman shrugged. What else was I expecting?

Turning around, he exited the room, research stored away. If he had been tired before, Argentum was exhausted now, the long pull of the day finally reaching him. Footfalls echoed down the hall, just as dead and hollow as they had been earlier.

Thinking on neverending Ebody vending machines there had been so many of a while back, he came upon another empty room that had yet to be entirely destroyed by time and the elements. Far smaller than the one full of research. Maybe even a storage closet. In it were bookshelves, a desk, and, in fact, as he shone a flashlight into the darkness, he realized - a bed. Brow lifted in foreboding curiosity, he approached it. A boring, plain, slightly disheveled bed that was less worn than most other things in that bunker.

Testing the door with his barcode, the lights failed to switch on. Wandering up to a desk that sat off to the right, he noted the lack of mess that marred the rest of the facility. Across from him, behind the bed, was a small radio, and beside that, a lamp. Glad for it, he walked across the room to test it. Fortunately, it switched on, casting a warm light on the surroundings. The room was abandoned, a thick layer of dust covered everything.

“Too weird.”

Slowly, Prompto looked about the room. Dusty glass bottles could be found throughout the room, stuck under chairs, some shattered in corners, but remarkably, this room, like the other, remained otherwise undisturbed. That earlier twinge inside him flinched, that hunger to set the room ablaze, but it was quickly subdued by fatigue. This whole wing of the facility was strange, older, and the gunman had no idea when he would next find refuge. With a sigh, the blond sat upon the cot. He all but keeled over on it, blinking wearily off at the long shadows cast on the wall by the lamp.

  
He thought about Iggy and Gladio, whenever they were, and if they spent any time at all thinking about him. Where the pang of missing once dug into his chest, existed only curiosity. He just wished he knew without having to ask. Asking showed too much weakness, too much vulnerability. Too much to lose. Prompto couldn’t lose anymore. It was better this way, splitting up increased their chances of survival. Even if it meant he was the one left distracting their captor. Being alone was entirely for everyone’s benefit.

Comforted by the thought, Prompto quickly fell into a dreamless sleep, research beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter name from Mother Mother song "Waiting For the World to End", listened to while writing it


	4. let me in through your open wounds

The door to the roof shut with a heavy thud behind him, and Prompto collapsed against it. It was a fucked up time to realize how beautiful the lights of Lestallum looked through wet lashes, circles of light that danced before his eyes, as he felt his heart drop into his stomach. After holding in so much, finally, he allowed himself to weep. And for what? He had waved goodbye to the contingent making their way to Meldacio as it drove away, a hopeful smile plastered onto his face. Gladio waved from the back of the truck until he faded away in the darkness, Prompto’s heart tied to the bumper. You would think, even after everything they had been through, as many times as they had parted ways over the past six years, it would have become easier. But no, it was only getting so much harder. 

They had called it quits, after four years. It had been mutual. There were no tears. Not that it had ever been much of anything to begin with, but as that truck sped away into the dark, the gunman saw himself hoist up his sorrow, just another log to toss onto his growing pyre of loss. How do you even deal with a breakup during the apocalypse? 

Gladiolus had finished packing, buckling up his bag. Prompto had been in the doorway, listlessly waiting. “Y’know, I could use some more help at Hammerhead. If you’d want to.”

Amicita froze then, before hoisting his bag over his shoulder and smiling one of those beautiful encouraging smiles that always managed to make Prompto weak in the knees. Approaching, however, it grew sad. “I need to help Dave take the HQ back, and Cindy needs you.” Gladio stood before the blond bashfully blocking the doorway. “Yeah, but not in the way I used to want her to. Y’know… Like how I…need you... now?” Prompto trailed off, looking away. Both men looked optimistically devastated in the silence that followed. That had been it. They had no idea when or even if they might see each other again. Argentum’s last shot.

“You know it’s safest to go it alone.” Gladio finally stated, the meaning coming down like a ton of bricks. He wasn’t wrong. There were too many risks in the three of them traveling together. Just in case something were to happen, one of their missions were to become overwhelmed. At least one of them needed to survive in order to be there when Noct came back. Prompto didn’t feel like dwelling on why he was pretty confident he would be okay, but he wasn’t about to put anyone else in danger either.

“Yeah, I know. It’s better this way.” The gunner choked on his own words and shook his head, wanting nothing more than to latch onto the man and not let go. It took him everything to keep himself from doing just that.

“Prompto--” Gladio started, looking as if he felt the same way, “I’m sorry.” A bittersweet smile grew across the freckled face, as a weight in his chest fell sharply, “Nah, don’t be,” He mustered, breaking into a grin, desperately hoping the tears in his eyes weren’t too noticeable. “Just don’t die, okay?” At that, the shield scoffed. “I’ll be fine.” With that, he leaned in, casually landing his lips on the gunman’s cheek, warm and comforting. “Worry more about yourself.”

That was that.

It only took three months for his advice to kick in.

  
  


-

It wasn't until later that night that the subject would see the researcher face to face once more, the doors whirring open as Verstael entered the small space that had been converted to a bedroom. Just as that morning, and all of the days before it, he held that familiar bag under his arm. “And how are you doing this evening?”

The man in question was idly playing with the radio before his bed, distant static cutting through the quiet of the room. Clearing his throat, he switched it off.

“I have of late, wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth, that this goodly frame the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory,” The accursed being began, languidly pulling away from the object, raising a dramatic arm to his sole audience member, “This most excellent canopy the air,” And points to Besithia, “Look you, this brave o'er hanging firmament, this majestical roof, fretted with golden fire: why, it appeareth no other thing to me, than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors.” Ardyn bemoaned with anguish, slowly approaching the researcher, who had raised a curious brow. He proceeded onward, growing frustrated. “What a piece of work is man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculty, in form and moving how express and admirable,” Stopping a few steps away from the man, the test subject spread out his arms, inhaling deeply. “In action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god,” He paused at this, eyeing the researcher pointedly. “The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals,” His arms fell, “And yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust?” Came the whisper that followed. Sighing deeply, he was aware only of himself for a moment more, before regarding Besithia. “Man delights not me; no, nor Woman neither; though by your smiling you seem to say so.” Adagium retired to his bed, looking up in expectation.

“I assume that one of our interlopers was a patron of the arts?” Verstael asked, smirking. 

The redhead looked fatigued, then, coming to sag in place. Suddenly, he gripped his head. “I must have heard it somewhere.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Besithia came to stand before him.

“Yes, my assistants informed me you managed to learn much from our… guests.” It was true; in the debriefing, it had turned out that three of the Lucian spies had been working together, one of which had infiltrated the Gralea the better part of a decade ago. Through the sublimation process, Adagium had been able to glean information regarding an entire cell of spies, their whereabouts, and their intel. It would be easy to find the rest, eliminate them, and replace them with spies of their own. All in all, it leveled the playing field against an enemy they had too long been unable to subvert. “Humanity proves to be far more barbaric than the beasts you’ve had me deamonify.” He muttered, sounding every bit the sorrowful shade pulled from that tomb. The researcher leaned over and took the subject’s head in hand, gently tilting it back. They locked eyes briefly, before a small light switched on, flashing directly into amber eyes, pupils dilating. “Ah,” Ardyn pulled away, pained.

“A migraine?” Besithia questioned, pausing. The creature gave a nod, eyes fixed shut as the researcher pulled away. Fishing through his bag, he pulled out a small lancet and alcohol wipe, using the time to take Ardyn by the index finger and give it a quick snapping prick. It did not phase him, the blood beading from his finger a black beading ink. “It’s fascinating, really, how immune you are to physical destruction, yet still fall victim to the limitations of the human mind.” Taking a sample, Verstael frettered it away while Ardyn breathed deeply, appearing to try and clear his head. All of a sudden, with a sharp shake of his head, he brightened vaguely, smiling at the researcher. “Only a passing discomfort,” The subject replied.

“Was this testing method ‘different enough’ for you?” Besithia inquired, repeating his earlier movement and tilting back Ardyn's head and switching on the small light. This time he did not pull away, tips of gloved fingers gripping rough stubble as the researcher leaned in to watch his pupils dilate. Switching it off, Besithia was about to pull back when he found Ardyn gripping onto his bandolier, keeping him in place. They eyed one another aptly, Verstael still holding onto the test subject’s face. 

Out of all of the researchers that worked in the facility, including those specifically trained to study physiology, Besithia was the only one allowed to perform physical examinations on Adagium. No one was ever quite sure if it was due to the spilt blood of less fortunate researchers, or if it was the wishes of Research Chief himself. Ardyn gazed up at him, “If you’ve run out of truth serum, next time just tell me.” A low chuckle fell from Verstael’s lips, as he pushed away an errant strand of hair from Ardyn’s eyes. 

“I believed this to be the most beneficial option... for both of us.” Those same eyes clouded over momentarily, the creature seeing something the researcher could not. “You said you wanted to see Lucis.” Besitha added cheekily, as his test subject’s gaze grew distant. He reached out to touch the blond’s face. The researcher only turned away, eyes narrowing. After a moment, he pulled at one of his gloves, slipping it off and leaving it on the cot, beaded thing falling heavily. At that, he allowed Adagium to grasp his bare hand, eyeing the creature wearily. Ardyn brought it to his face, eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss.

“I did… I meant to travel Lucis, to save it’s people,” The words fell dumbly from his mouth, falling into a whisper, “Aera, please forgive me.” At this, Verstael’s brows furrowed. The hand on his bandolier wrapped around his waist to bring him closer, and he let out a gasp he hadn’t known he was capable of. Running his thumb over a cheekbone, he looked directly into amber eyes.

“I am not Aera,” Verstael asserted. While he was in fact a distant cousin of the House Fleuret, his family had lived in Gralea for generations. “I am General Verstael Besithia,” He continued, tapping Ardyn’s cheekbone in time with his words. His test subject’s eyes cleared somewhat, softening.  
“Apologies, my friend.” Ardyn admitted, although refraining from easing his hold on the researcher. “And how could I forget? There is no one on all of Eos like you.” At that, Verstael bashfully smirked. “How is your migraine?” He questioned as he brought his hand to Ardyn’s forehead. The creature basked in the touch. “Gone,” Came the breathy response, the researcher keen on observing the subject's reactions. Verstael came to smirk.

“Good.” Slowly, fingertips came to run themselves into wine red hair, gently coming to brush through the rowdier strands. Besithia stepped into the embrace, letting Ardyn hold on tightly. This was a first. “I know I have promised you revenge.” Verstael began as the creature tensed, Ardyn’s expression souring. The researcher came to cup his cheek. “I know you want to see the destruction of Lucis as much as I do. Know that every test and every obstacle I’ve given to you has only served to expand our research. With that research, we will only be able to more thoroughly decimate our enemies when the time comes.” Besithia proclaimed. Their gazes locked. Ardyn blinked up at him with such hope, and the researcher implored him with a sweet caress to his cheek, “I promise you, that time will come.”

-

Prompto stared at the partially disrobed figure standing next to his kitchen table, holding open the file folder.

“There was a bookmark in my folder, left recently.” Ardyn began, holding up the dog-eared paper. “I assume that you’ve read it? About the series of experiments performed on me, by none other than your… genetic progenitor, himself? You seem to have left off just before his big breakthrough, where I finally overtake the Infernian under the threat of death.” He states theatrically, as if reading off the trailer of a movie. “Or have you read about my dopamine levels, in a brain that reforms itself no matter how many times it’s splattered against a wall? The photos that accompany it are contemporary art, if I must say.” A long pause ensues, where they stare at one another in agonized silence.

“I did not choose this life.” Izunia confessed, tossing the files back to the table haphazardly, returning the lid to the tea tin.  
“Well, I choose to make my life what it is today, no thanks to my -- to that madman. I broke away.” Prompto spat.  
“And by whose good graces did you do that?”

“Me! Mine!” Prompto raged, stepping up to the shadowed figure, “No one else!” Izunia smirked at this. They both knew this to be a lie.  
“And all of that work to regain your place with your friends, only to be left alone again?”

That was the comment to hoist the gunman past his tipping point, and he smacked the tin from Ardyn’s hand. It tumbled to the floor, bursting open, contents spilled everywhere. The pleasant scent of lavender and chamomile filled the air, offsetting the blond’s rage, still threatening to spill over.  
“Why?!” The gunman demanded, pointing to the mess. “Why?” He repeated, heatedly shoving Izunia to no avail, as the man just rocked back on his heels in place. “Why?” This time, his voice broke, as tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. He asked for none of it, barely four years into the wait and already finding himself sinking. The accursed man’s expression spoke of an old pain, one that the blond shouldn’t possibly know, but did. It tore away at him. So many questions still cut away, so many horrible realizations brought on by uncovered research. A sob took hold of him, sorrow stabbing through. “Why?” Prompto pleaded, crumpling to his knees. The fragrant scent of tea leaves plumed as he reached the floor. Ardyn came to kneel before the freckled heap, bending to one knee.

But he knew why. The agony of understanding it choked him, melting him from the inside out. _A better Verstael._

In that moment, Prompto was so far away from absolutely everyone, stuck in a growing distance that could not be spanned. A waking nightmare he could not escape, placed in an infinite expanse. 

As an ungloved hand reached out to touch his face, Prompto didn’t wait, taking a wide swing at Ardyn, although his opponent easily deflected, before catching the limb. With a snarl, the gunman attempted to yank it away, but the accursed man held firm. His barcode became exposed. Both gazes flickered over to it, before golden amber met terrified blue for one long moment. For years, the nagging feeling of exposure had clawed away at Prompto, terrified of being revealed as some sort of fake, some sort of _thing_. Prompto had expected some dark glee from the cursed man, but it never surfaced. 

Aged features bore an expression of such pointed understanding, it cut straight into his chest. He hated that he knew why. Sorrow wanted to gush out uncontrollably from the wound, hot breath left his chest as if he had been struck, barely managing to keep himself from bursting into a flood of tears. The touch that gently came to his chin was so welcome, Prompto was left overwhelmed, gasping for air. As a thumb caressed the barcode, the hair on his arm bristled. The few tears that spilled down freckled cheeks were tenderly wiped away. Ardyn said nothing.

Conflict raged behind the gunman’s gaze, hate resting just on it’s edge, in spite of how Argentum’s arm fell to Izunia’s shoulder, how a hand slid around the gunman’s ribs to pull him near, as the other tilted his chin up. Their gazes locked. The only sound in Prompto’s ears was that of his own heartbeat, pounding so hard he was certain of his impending coronary. Eyes screwed shut, and his body fell into a terrified stillness, holding his breath.

With the utmost care, his head was guided left, then right. When he realized what was happening, he slowly relaxed. For the first time, Prompto allowed himself to be studied. Without seeing, he could feel Izunia's eyes wander over his face. Idly, he wondered what the man could see. The shiver that ran down his spine came on unexpectedly, along with the blush that stained his cheeks. Slowly, his chin was brought in, as a knuckle hooked it upward. He was stunned by how much he found himself wanting to be brought in even closer, and--

A loud knock sounded at the caravan door.

“Prom, honey? Sorry to wake ya, but I just had some survivors show up and we could really use some help right now.” It was Cindy, sounding alarmed.

As if waking from a dream, his eyes fluttered open just in time to see the last of a smug smile, Ardyn’s form disappearing into the darkness. The ghost of his touch lingered, and Prompto tried desperately to suppress the feeling of loss that surged through him in that moment, curling up in the wake of it. With a sigh, he sat back up. “Yeah, I’ll be right there!” He called back, looking over at the dried petals, still scattered across the floor. Hopping to his feet, he grabbed his vest, throwing it back over his shoulders. Running through the tea, the door slammed shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter name from Son Lux song "Weapons VII", listened to while writing it


	5. you took everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where the previous edition in this series takes place, 'When Time Debated With Decay'. It makes explicit reference to the events in that story, so I recommend reading it before proceeding if you have yet to read it. Thank you!

The emergency lights of the hallway passed by in quick succession as General Besithia followed the rushed steps of his subordinate. He had been absent barely a week, and not even a day after his return some inane emergency demanded his attention. An alarm had been tripped within the lab, it’s glare casting everything in a dangerous red. As they continued down the hall, they made tracks through an oil spill, splattered in smeared puddles across the floor, their footsteps marked across the hall. As the smell of copper hit his nose, it dawned on the researcher that the fluid spilling across the pristine hallway was not, in fact, oil. There was a distant howl that swept up through the hall, causing Besithia to rush on ahead of the panicked underling.  
  
Upon entering a containment wing, there was yet another ghastly roar, one that had once been feral, but remained only twisted and contorted by only the sort of degradation that occurred by exposure to plasmodia. One of his specimens must have escaped. Bodies littered the area, there was no one alive to be seen. All of his instruments, completely torn asunder. A massive crash thundered ahead, as a turbine bent at an impossible angle and careened across the room. Verstael flinched. A giant behemoth, distorted beyond recognition by starscourge, followed it in a tumbling mess followed by the angered shout of and leaping form of--

“Adagium!” He shouted, fury clear. Nevertheless, the ancient entity was already on the specimen, a magical spear running through its neck. With a wail, it tossed itself back, causing the General to leap for cover as it came crashing down on the broken mess of the room, debris flying about. Verstael missed the death blow, only hearing one last gurgling cry as the dust settled around him. Peering over his cover, the researcher watched the sublimation process of the beast with the faintest fascination, before his anger quickly returned. He eyed his life’s work, ruined, with a snarl. Ardyn stood over the mess warily. The blond jumped up from his place behind a decimated consol. “What have you done?!” 

In that moment, Izunia recognized his presence. His countenance softened as he gave a slight bow. The smirk that crossed his lips shortly after struck Verstael, who in that moment wanted nothing more than to know what the fuck it was that the ancient man wasn’t going to tell him. “I only wished to know more about my surroundings,” Came the honeyed reply, curling a halo about his head. It did nothing to move the General.

“So you _destroyed_ my lab? Got my team murdered?!” The glare that Verstael shot Ardyn spoke of how dearly the blond would have liked to leave the cursed man in his tomb if given the next opportunity. It was then the earlier subordinate entered the room, haplessly looking upon the wreckage before a shadow descended upon him. With little more than a yelp, his form evaporated as Adagium absorbed the miasma that burst forth from the poor assistant’s form.   
  
“They were aware of the danger inherent to their work, were they not?” Ardyn questioned cooly, brushing off the residue from his hands. Verstael’s jaw dropped, before his brows knit in anger once more. As he opened his mouth to speak, the cursed man continued.   
  
“-- And what of all of those sick with the Scourge? The ones you’ve been sacrificing, all in the name of ‘science’?” The blond looked about to throttle the man, closing the distance between them, only for Ardyn to bring a finger to the researcher’s lips. “Is there no difference between the lives of those you’ve lost to your enemies, and those lost because you’ve simply willed it so?” At this, Ardyn’s brows lifted and Verstael’s words failed him. After a long moment, however, the General sputtered, jerking away from the touch.   
  
“I have only been making the best out of an already bad situation!” Verstael rounded on his favorite project, a dog about to attack. “If you’d only tell me what I want to know, I wouldn’t have to go to such lengths, Ardyn! Just tell me!” The comment fell upon him like a foul smell, and the two glared at one another alone in the wrecked lab. “Tell me!” His scream echoed throughout the metal walls, stomping back up to the immortal.   
  
“You do not know what it is that you ask.” The creature known as Adagium muttered darkly to his savior, as a surprisingly tender palm came to cup Besithia’s cheek. The General’s eyes narrowed, but allowed the contact to stand. “Someday, even death will not stop me. Whether you help or not.” 

Several months later, General Besithia would announce his first successful testing of the cloning process.

-

By some miracle, the motherfucker had made himself scarce for the better part of a year after their run-in in Hammerhead. It had helped that Argentum had kept himself on the move after that, having explained to Cindy that he decided that it was best to try and reconnect with Cid, and some of the other crew in Lestallum. Turns out, it had been. When he had arrived, he was greeted by both Cor and Gladio. It was almost like coming home.   
  
They had quickly caught up, walking the streets of the boarded up city, and Prompto caught himself smiling for the first time in too long. The Marshal and Shield had been travelling together for several months by that point, mostly working out of Cape Caem to collect passengers on ships coming out of Altissia, and making supply runs to keep the power running. Gladiolus had left Iris in charge of the Cape in his stead, while he and Cor had returned to Lestallum for supplies. They had told Prompto that when he and the Marshal formally trained her to fight, she took to it quicker than her brother ever had.   
  
It wasn’t long before they too were fighting alongside one another again, staving off an attack on a supply run just outside of the city. As Cor elegantly dashed through a set of incoming deamons, severing them with no effort, Prompto felt a pang of envy. Missing out on the action for too long, out of practice, or at worst, again a burden on his comrades. As soon as the thought sprung upon him, however, so did a set of Salpinx. Quicker than anyone, he fired off as many headshots. In that moment, Prompto supposed that he was finally self-sufficient. Oddly enough, the thought made him sad.

A hobgoblin barreled into him before the thought could stick, and a broadsword swung straight through it, shorn torso toppling in two. Gladio stepped out, offering a hand out to the gunman. Graciously, he took it and pulled in close. The smile they shared was simultaneous, with Prompto about to thank him, before the clambering noise of an Iron Giant sounded behind him. Before another moment could pass, they nodded at one another before the gunman ducked behind Gladio, diving back into the fray. They moved like clockwork, muscle memory kicking in like it never skipped a beat. In no time at all, they had cleared the area.

After all was said and done, another supply run was set to make its way back south, with Gladio was set to accompany it. Cor was to deal with defending the power lines running out of Lestallum. Prompto was still settling in with Cid.  
  
Once the clean up was done and the truck had finished being loaded, Prompto could be found balefully pacing around the vehicle. Waiting to say goodbye. When Cor had walked out in place of Gladiolus, Prompto was baffled. “What’s up? Where’s Gladio?” 

“I’ll be the one heading back to Cape Caem. He’s staying here.” 

  
  


In the subsequent weeks, the two members of the missing prince’s retinue picked up right where they had left off. Patrols together, supply runs, training new Glaives, all things they found themselves doing together as easily as breathing. No particular night after Prompto was coming back from patrol, Gladio had surprised him with a bottle of booze. As it turned out, it was his birthday. He hadn’t even remembered. 

“I’m glad you stayed.” Prompto would remember saying, sitting on a rooftop overlooking the square, where at some point, folks once carelessly walked overhead during the Assassin’s Festival. Although the warmth of Lestallum still felt the same, where there had been laughter and music, there was now the hum of machinery, reverberating cables draped everywhere. The Shield gave the gunner a sideways glance while taking a swig.  
  
“Of course I stayed. There are _things_ to take care of here.” Gladio replied, offering Prompto the last of it. He walked over to where the tattooed man leaned against a wall. “Things, yeah, sure…” Prompto took the bottle before tossing it aside. Within the next moment, their mouths were pressed together in a desperate panic. It had been so long, and a need that had been buried and ignored was finally allowed to resurface. It hadn’t cared for the years on end pining for that one person to notice, only to realize too late that the person Prompto had actually cared for may never be coming back.

In that moment, all that mattered was the boundless need, fed on alcohol and desperation. Prompto all but pinned Gladio to the wall as he welcomed the way familiar hands brought him off balance, the way the man’s mouth caught his own, the lights in the endless night spinning above them as they topped over to the ground.

It would be Prompto’s first time fucking on a rooftop.

  
  


The following year would proceed in a similar fashion, every so often, making nondescript excuses to be alone together, taking long supply runs to Hammerhead, along with several pit stops. Nothing official, nothing ever was, only ever operating at a base level of acknowledgement between responsibilities. Anything more would only add to their burden, even if more often than not one of them could be found in the other’s bed. At one point, they had met up with Ignis in Hammerhead, who had been working out of Galdin Quay. Prompto was sure Ignis could tell something was going on between them, but he gave no indication if he did. Despite the increasingly hellish landscape that surrounded them, for once Prompto was glad to be with his friends. It was almost as if Noctis hadn’t been missing for half a decade. Almost.

Everything had been going great, if you could consider the end of the world great, until a botched refugee pickup nearly got Prompto killed. More accurately, Prompto nearly got himself killed in a bout of idiotic heroism, using himself as bait and nearly dying from blood loss alone at an abandoned camp site. Nearly, and only nearly, because he had been saved. Rescued. By Ardyn.

He had told no one upon his return, especially not Gladio. How could he? It kept him awake, nights spent staring at the ceiling, blinds casting a creeping shadow against the wall of his apartment. The blond found himself staring at the fading line work of the wings permanently etched onto Amicita’s skin as they laid in bed, the muscled arm cradling Argentum close. The nagging sensation of dreaded knowing threatened to overtake him, although secure in the arms of the Shield. He should be dead. 

Night after night, his mind unwittingly walked him through every step of the exchange, up until the memory of his cheek pressed against the fabric of Izunia’s shirt. The grip on torn flesh, the rage, and the smell of sweat. Ardyn’s gaze as he came to, amber eyes so clear. What could he have done differently? Why had the evil bastard helped him? Was he really all that great anyway? Every thought scratched down the wallpaper of his mind, until he would fall into an uneasy rest.

  
  
  


Not a month later, there was a downed power line just outside of Lestallum. 

Prompto had climbed his way up a precarious ladder to replace a fuse. A glaive waited below. Above, there was only a blackened sky that held no sign of light or life. A breeze blew across his skin as he came up on the landing. One hand followed two, before the gunman hoisted himself up. Too unsurprisingly, an all too familiar face had been waiting there for him.

“Fancy meeting you here!” Ardyn Izunia exclaimed cheerfully, and for a short moment Prompto considered jumping from the landing. Somehow, he knew that even if he tried, the man would likely catch him before he could hit the ground. Brows furrowed, the blond gestured to the pouch of tools secured to his leg. “So, will you be letting me do my job or--?” “-- Or what?” The accursed man cut him off with a darkly teasing intonation.

“I have to shoot you? … Again?” The pistol that appeared in his hand with a faint glow punctuated the comment. Izunia only gestured to the broken device casually, stepping aside as much as he could given the space. With a heaving sigh, Argentum set to work, stepping up to the broken fuse and unhitching the correct safeties.  
  
“I was only in the area, and thought I would say hello.” Ardyn continued, and Prompto ignored him, as he was increasingly content to do if it got him out of the situation unscathed. Removing the old fuse, he placed it into a pouch. The figure beside him shuffled in the silence, before clearing his throat, voice prepared to be smooth and cutting.

“And how is our dearest Amicita doing these days?” The cheeky cadence was unmistakable. Prompto tensed, fumbling the working fuse and watching in horror as it approached the edge of the small platform. Just as it was about to topple over the edge, Ardyn gingerly plucked it from the verge. Prompto frowned. “None of your business.” The freckled face shot a dirty look at his adversary as he held out his hand expectantly. There wasn’t too much room for two, the simplest rail around the edges. Ardyn held the thing out over Prompto’s awaiting palm.  
  
“You two are just so _close_ , I only thought to ask.” The comment dropped with the fuse. 

“Fuck off.” Prompto grasped the fuse, pulling back as far as possible.

In feigned indignation, Ardyn dramatically brought a hand to his chest, wounded.

“And here, you’ve yet to introduce me to your friend on the ground,” He began, pointing down to the waiting Glaive, “Perhaps I should make my own introduction?” The faint smile that played on his lips enraged the blond. 

“Don’t you dare,” Argentum threatened in a way that was so practiced, it felt rehearsed. They stood that way for a long moment, nothing but the breeze between them. “Prompto! Everything okay up there?” Came the voice from below. The gunman glared at Izunia, pistol ready by his side in one hand and fuse in the other. The accursed man raised an inquiring brow, “Are we okay up here?” Izunia questioned playfully.

“Yeah!” Prompto shouted, an unwavering glare set upon Izunia. “Give me a few.” Prompto let the gun slip back into the Armiger. The gunman turned back around to slip the fresh fuse into its socket.

“I’m only here out of concern for _you_ ,” Ardyn began, his voice closer, softer. 

Scoffing so hard he nearly snorted, Prompto clamped the cap back over the fuse box. “Stop.” He snapped back and straightened, before turning to face the man. In the distant glow of Lestallum, Ardyn was warmly lit before the void of land and sky he was set against. The breeze blew between them, and the stubbled mouth fell into an affectionate smile. Prompto desperately wished he couldn’t remember how soft the accursed man’s touch was. Like a flood, their last encounter haunted him, the memory of being left completely exposed to his adversary burned into his memory. Reluctantly, he felt a blush warm his cheeks.

Smirk deepening, Ardyn took the opening. “... Are you happy, or are you _lonely_?” Izunia questioned quietly. With a bitter grunt, Prompto shoved him over the edge. Yellow eyes, hollowed out and dripping darkness, widened only briefly, before jostling layers of shadow blew away like scattered petals in the breeze.

Overcome with a sudden disgust laced with terror, the gunman made a break down the ladder. 

They needed to get back to Lestallum immediately.

  
  


-

  
  
Steam arose from the pair of mugs that sat on the caravan’s table, as the smell of lavender and camomile drifted through the air. They sat in silence, as they always did after too long, as if giving themselves a second to finally take in the situation and all of its absurdity. Or at least, that was what Prompto had taken to doing. It was another night, or day-- who could tell anymore-- after eight years of waiting-- but who was counting?

  
Hammerhead was impregnable. No deamon could touch it, what with all the tech that Cindy and Prompto had perfected over the course of the years. At least, that was the word pass around the compound. Argentum had taken up residence there once again, leading several successful scavenger teams around the border of Insomnia’s ruins. After initial exploration, Cor had managed to set up camps within the subway system. 

Next to the mugs of tea was a small map of the Crown City, with several markings scribbled across it.

“Do you think we can get to the Financial District this time?” Argentum prodded, pointing to the indicated spot on the map. He sat, distracted, shirt misplaced, along with his belt. When the brooding figure that stood beside him raised his eyes incredulously, the gunman’s nostrils flared. “Please,” He asserted, before sighing in disgust and taking a sip of tea. “Please, please,” The rage behind his words fell away, “Let Cor’s team stay in one piece.”  
  
Ardyn Izunia weighed each of the words once they'd left the gunman’s mouth, one by one. A thumb was brought to brush over the gunman’s lower lip and Prompto resisted leaning into the touch, instead only gaping. “Move east. Do not deviate.” And with that, the ancient evil also brought the mug to his lips, moving away from the gunman with his map. 

  
Taking a long drink from his mug, Prompto fell back into his seat, wearily eyeing his ever unexpected guest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is the final chapter, and it should be up soon. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Chapter name from the song 'You Took Everything' by Mrs. Piss


	6. leave it behind and come away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter name from songs "Let Me Follow" and "Come Away" but Son Lux.

Something about the mission had felt off. Pryna had popped up in a dream the night before. Just as he felt himself rise back upward toward consciousness, the white dog had trotted up to him like a warning.   
  
  
The sharp scent of blood carried through the salt in the air. He hadn’t moved, smoking pistol still in the air. The expression on Prompto’s freckled face spelled pure terror. Throughout the resort, glaives were likely to be being out in an ugly mess. Everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong. More than ever, Prompto wished he had accepted Iggy’s offer of backup.

  
For the past several months, Ignis had been working out of Galdin Quay with Libertus, who had set out on a refortification effort. It was a makeshift compound, much more hastily put together over the small fortress that was Hammerhead. Power had been late to be run to the outpost, though, causing several waves of deamons to routinely roll through the area. It had already been more than a few months since Gladio had left for Meldacio, although Prompto had heard good things from him since they had parted ways. Cid kept telling him to get back to work with Cindy and stop moping his way around the city. Seeing no reason to stay in Lestallum any longer, he finally left the town and it’s lights.   
Being a known companion of the King granted him some sort of clout, as noticed as he travelled, and finally arrived at the Quay. He was welcomed pretty enthusiastically, quickly being shown the extent of their resources. Everything had been so normal, well, as much as normal could get anymore. Just as he was poking his head into the hotel room, everything went to shit.

  
It all started with the thunderous roar from onshore and the flickering of the lights before everything went dark. Chaos broke out instantaneously, a sudden wave of noise that seemed to be crawling closer by the second. Just as he summoned his pistol to his side, the door to the room was slammed closed behind him by his guide. With a red glow, he felt himself shoved back against the wall. The glaive had rushed him, warping him into the wall. Prompto almost didn’t realize the spear nearly embedded in his side. Just as a second jab came at him, he dodged, panicked by the sudden lack of back up.

Certainly, he had gone up against glaives before. There had been plenty in Lestallum that were looking to train, but this, this was different. Behind every movement, there was an intent to kill. Prompto was now confronted with a reality he had never had to consider before. Killing a glaive. 

Jumping over one of the beds, he had fired off a shot in the direction of his assailant, only for it to pass straight through their image. Just as he jumped off of the bed to avoid a swipe to his knees, the gunman moved behind a chair. Just as he fired off several more shots, an even stranger thing occurred. After a series of several blood curdling screams, silence began to fall from outside of the room. Prompto looked to his assailant, who looked back to him, before he made a run for the door. Just as he could see a shining blade going for his neck, the blond considered in that fraction of a second how horribly soul crushing it would be to have been killed by someone fighting for the same cause. 

Then a shot fired on the glaive at point blank range, body quickly crumpling unceremoniously to the floor.

Prompto caught his breath as uneasy relief washed over him, before complete nausea. Falling off to the side, he waited for it to pass, trying to hear for any sign of life outside the door.

Switching on his light as he snapped it to his belt, he looked around the room, now in disarray. Walking up to the exit, he turned the doorknob and pushed. It didn’t budge. Something heavy must have fallen on the other side. A chill ran down his spine. “Shit.” Banging on the door, he called out, “Hello! Anybody out there?” It had grown eerily quiet. “The door’s stuck!” Still, nothing. Looking around the room, it was obviously a far cry from the swanky hotel he and his friends could hardly afford. In the back of his mind, he noted that there was something oddly satisfying in seeing it ruined. Breaking the window to escape wouldn't be the worst thing to have happened to the room that day.  


Although the sky was cast in consistent growing darkness, the view remained impressive. Prompto went still. In the dim reflection of the room against the glass, the body of the downed glaive was missing.

  
  


A hush fell over the room, the kind to suffocate, if he hadn’t already grown used to the sort. A chill never ran down his spine, the desire to flee never hit. Even if he knew exactly where this path led. Suddenly reflected on the window, Izunia stood just behind him, a knowing expression fixed on his face. In the span of a second, their eyes met. The gunman switched off his light, leaving the vaguest suggestion of light from the sky to bounce off the water, just barely illuminating the room. Angelgard stood ominously in the far distance, just past the dark waves.

“This was your fault.” It wasn’t an accusation, but an observation.

“Indirectly, yes.” The ghost of a touch brushed over the sides of his shoulders.

“I should have known it was you. It’s always you.” Prompto grinned to himself, a touch of bitterness in his tone. “It’s always you,” Prompto repeated quietly, slowly straightening as the presence behind him grew near. Eyeing the spot on the glass where he had seen Ardyn’s face, the island remained, and a landslide of research papers came flooding back to him, thrown into the air like those he had discarded back in Gralea. ‘Adagium’, imprisoned and restrained, long hair and devastated expression. There, stalking around him ravenously, Verstael. His fucking obsession. A series of discordant notes played, discordantly swelling to create one terrible and beautiful sound, and it all became clear to Prompto.

The touch at his sides lingered, as if about to raise the gunman’s arms and take the first step in one of those ballroom competitions he had caught Iggy watching once. It had been back around the same time they had first gotten to Galdin Quay. Only to meet the ‘man of no consequence’. Only for Insomnia to fall in an attack planned by his--

Twisted up into a knot in his chest, tangled more and more with every realization, nothing but darkness and decay surrounding them. This time he laughed, a strange and pained laugh, defeated. “And it’s always ‘ _ me’ _ .”

He found himself turned around, a void before him in spite of the closet’s worth of layers that met his grasp. Then, progressively, the stubbled face faded into view above his own, eyes coming to adjust to the lack of light. Square jaw, wisps of hair falling about his face, brows raised innocently. He always hated Izunia the most when he looked human, imploring amber eyes boring into his own. The tacit understanding buried just behind that look. Allowing himself to actually  _ look  _ at the undying man for the first time.

Of course he had seen his face before, too many times even, more than enough for one lifetime. Though, in every moment that had preceded this, it stung. It was a stab to the gut, the very mental image of the man used to burn him up inside with unexpressed rage, something that he couldn’t linger on without wanting to scream. For years, he had been fighting a current, determined to stand in place no matter how strong it grew around him. It was always too much to feel, too much to understand, only ever allowing for hate. But in that moment, any bit of heat he could conjure felt forced. He felt none of the rage. Only fatigue.

They just stood there together in the wreck of a room, the full weight of their shared paths on the verge of crushing them. The notion that Besithia would roll in his grave at the idea of his ‘Adagium’ attached to a better version of himself had stuck. Without Verstael, the world around them might even be normal, sun shining, people happily going about their days in the very spot they stood in. 

Without that bastard, neither would be there at all.  


Prompto only stared up helplessly, the last surviving clone of a madman who unleashed this monster upon the world. No matter how hard they fought. No matter how long they were going to wait, no matter how much Prompto hated it, nothing would change that fact. The touch that guided his chin brought blue eyes to flutter as lids dropped, a blush painting his cheeks. As if to give him time to change his mind, the grip on his chin moved so slowly. Prompto’s limbs were set alight, practically tingling as he came to grasp onto his pleated collar. With a final inquiring quirk of a brow and jut of his chin, Ardyn blinked down in question. A challenge. Whatever was left of the resolve Prompto had clung to for so long finally slipped from his grasp. A wave at his back drove him up on his toes at full force, their lips meeting chastely. 

Ardyn didn’t wait, coaxing his mouth open. An arm wrapped around his waist, and shared breath fell in gasps, air taken in after nearly drowning. Prompto would remember the way his bracelets shifted as he tried to figure out what to do with his hands. Idly, they wandered through scarves and up to the broad shoulders before him and back. Everything he had once been afraid of was happening. Afraid, not for his safety, exactly, but the unexpected resolution threatening to gut him. How swiftly he relaxed as Ardyn brought him into a close embrace, hand at his jaw. The very alignment of their mouths pressed together was a sensation he had never known, but had been missing for ages. Sickening relief nearly broke him, his vision swimming in tears not split until he finally let his eyes slide shut. All of the fear he had so fiercely gripped onto for so long was there to prevent this from happening. This very thing. 

His heart had deceived him, long ago, every other instinct having kicked in to help avoid committing this horrible betrayal. Too late. The organ had wrestled free from his ribcage, shoved itself up into his throat, making his breathing staggered. He had been so stupid not to see it sooner. The inevitability drove straight through him, back arching as he actively deepened the kiss. He was standing in a sinkhole, falling away into nothing. Pieces of him blowing away in the wind.

Ardyn let the heavy coat be pushed from his shoulders, scarves elegantly falling away behind it. The Crownsguard attire the gunman had been patching together for the past several years was also shed, down to his pants, uncomfortably tight. The only sound to be heard was that of the waves coming to shore. Breath falling short, the gunman blinked back up at Ardyn. Slowly, he began to mouth the words “I still hate y--,” Until the man stilled them hungrily with his own.

In an odd dance of backward steps, Prompto was led to sit onto a displaced bed while Izunia took a knee between his legs. Every foreboding thought came crashing down on him at once, every warning, every step he had taken to run away, all to avoid this.

Even with partial gloves, exposed fingertips were brought to run over scars he knew Ardyn sported, too many examination photos stuck to the inside of the gunman’s skull. It brought a smug smile to Izunia’s lips, and the freckled face grew red. Just as Prompto opened his mouth to protest, the accursed swept him into a passionate kiss that knocked him fully back onto the bed. Although the gunman initially pushed back at the sudden closeness, he slowed to stillness, hands resting on Ardyn’s chest. In the back of his mind, the warnings persisted, pleading for him to stop, to put up a fight, to die. Anything less mortifying than this. Than to be caught actually wanting. He considered it all while returning the kiss, tongue acting out in defiance of himself. 

_ Then come save me.  _ He dared, feeling the crackle of magic radiate off of Ardyn, directing his attention to his own armiger, and to its owner.  _ He’s got me again, Noct. You did it last time. Do it again.  _ The belt around his waist gave way, and his legs buckled in anticipation as his jeans were undone. Fingertips delicately caressed the faded scar at Prompto’s upper thigh, from their confrontation at the campsite a few months back. Ardyn had saved his life then too. As if the one thought crossed both minds, they looked at each other.  _ Save me, Noct.  _ A string of dedicated kisses picked up across Prompto’s collar as his jeans and briefs were pushed down, and he breathed a soft moan. Tears clouded his vision again, despite an attempt to lean up on his elbows.  _ Please. _ Blinking back the moisture, the mouth wandering his skin trailed down to his navel, and Prompto looked confusedly on. Even in the darkness, he could see crimson hair fell before Ardyn’s eyes. Prompto tried not to remember which bed he had slept on the night Lucis fell.

_ Before it’s too late. _ As a warm mouth closed around his cock, the thought died instantly.

A sudden wave of sensation overtook him, gasping hard. The next moment he was falling back in another moan as everything dissolved around him. Legs still trapped by his pants at the knees, unsure if his eyes were open or shut, he gripped the sheets beside him. Still, the ancient being continued, and after several desperate grasps, the blond found the man’s head, fingers threading through his hair. Hips buckled sporadically, and Prompto groaned. Is this what they wanted? Verstael in his cold metal corpse, or Noctis, from wherever he was inside the Crystal?    
_ If it’s not, strike me down right now. Do it. _ _   
_ The thought raged on in his mind as a tongue ran along the length of him.  _ Do it. _ Prompto moaned again he was consumed in a growing rhythm, stubble chafing his thighs. “Oh Six,” He breathed, hip movements growing erratic. At that, Ardyn suddenly pulled away, smirking like the asshole Prompto always knew he was. “They are the last to help you now,” He teased, before pulling leopard printed jeans the rest of the way down. “That’s not it.” Dazed, Prompto didn’t catch how he had slipped out of his clothes and boots until one of his legs was raised over Ardyn’s shoulder. “It’s that…” He tried, aching from the discontinued activity.

“What is it about the Six?” Ardyn questioned curiously, growing closer to the blond laying on the bed. Prompto felt so sheepish in that moment, so stupid, hair a mess, legs parting for the shadowed being above him. Breath increasingly quick, he shrugged with a half grin. “They haven’t struck me down yet.” Ardyn smiled an amused, pained, almost loving smile at him. 

“Worry not, my dear. They will,” And with that, something slick and warm tipped up inside of him. It overtook him, all encompassing. The welcoming glow of Ardyn’s eyes locked with his own as they grew, in all ways, closer. That moment stretched on, perfect and infinite. In one fell swoop, Prompto had taken him in. The speed was humiliating, letting his head hang back over the edge of the bed as his chest heaved. From where he lay, open and impaled, he could see Angelgard upside down in the distance. The understanding they shared was unbearable agony, exponentially amplified by proximity.

_ Fuck you. Fuck all of you.  _

Picking himself back up, he grabbed the fallen savior, bringing him into a fierce kiss, anger at the futility of it all burning him, cut by embarrassment at what he found of himself on the man’s tongue. With a roll of his hips, Izunia returned the favor in kind. As he cradled the freckled frame, legs wrapped around a scarred waist. It wasn’t long before they had regained a steady rhythm, a wide blush growing across all of Prompto’s skin. 

The marking on his arm both knew to be there grew visible. Just as he thought to cover it, Ardyn brought the arm up to his lips, and with little work undid the buckle of the bracelet. With a deep thrust, followed by another, and another, the creature ran a tongue along the series of lines. Blue eyes rolled back as he fell into a deep swoon. Coming back around, Prompto had fallen into a rift in reality. Drifting further out of existence. His legs parted wider. 

In what world was he allowed to enjoy this? In what way was any of this okay? For an instant, he wished they were the only two people in all of Eos, if only to allow himself to just let go--

As if almost on cue, a hand latched onto the hair at the back of his head, a solid firmness driving into him, and he relinquished all self control. The entirety of his form shook with the force of Ardyn’s movements, unable to do anything than give in to the force of it. A keen amber gaze illuminated with sheer triumph fell upon the form beneath him, on the verge. Their mouths quickly crashed together within the next moment, breath and sound expounding out as the life left their bodies. The world fell away. He no longer thought. All words failed. Nothing was left of Prompto Argentum. All that remained was a moaning mass of quivering flesh that had succumbed to the beast above it.   
There, on the bed in the ruined hotel at the end of the world, before Bahamut and Angelgard, they had consummated their understanding. 

-

Blinking awake, Prompto found himself curled up around a warm body. It was still dark, but it had been for almost seven years. Waking up next to someone was something. The distant sound of the tide coming in brought him to his senses, and everything that had preceded that moment came rushing back to him. “You’re still here,” He stated in disbelief, sitting up to look directly at The Deamon, content on the bed beside him. “I am.” Ardyn was already mostly dressed, in his shirt, vest and hat. Prompto, on the other hand, was still stark naked. “How long was I out?” Not waiting, he moved to grab his discarded clothing. Before long, he was jumping back into his pants. The ancient evil considered. “Seven hours or so.” 

Prompto doubletaked, about to slip his shirt over his head. He wanted to ask a follow up, but only shook his head. Quickly, he threw his shirt on. “I have to head to Hammerhead, I have to tell someone about...” He gestured to the whole area, picking up a boot. Looking back at the form still reclining, the gunman’s expression fell. “Please, d’you think you could let up on them for a little while? At least until I get back?” He pleaded, before putting on his boots. Ardyn only raised his hands in smug mock innocence, and Prompto sighed. “Well, it was worth a shot.” Finally, he found his jacket, slipping it on and completing the line of blood spray that stained it. Walking to the door, he pushed on it, remembering too late that it had been jammed the night before. “Do you think you could--?” Prompto pointed to the door. Ardyn got up, stood before it, and gave it a hard kick. The entire wall around it gave out, the whole structure cracking, until it fell forward, flat. After, he gave a bow, with a slight flourish. Muttering a weak ‘thanks’, the gunner stepped up to the hole in the wall where the door had just been.

A strange grin strained Prompto’s face, bright and pained, “Well, guess I’ll see you around.” A hand reached out, gripping his still exposed barcode. Attention snapping over to it, he realized that in that hand was his missing bracelet. Ardyn had set to securing it back on his wrist. “That’s okay.” Prompto took the bracelet back by hand, pulling away. He made the mistake of looking up, their damned gazes meeting again. Again, all too quickly, they were near and drawing nearer. 

A shot fired. The looming figure flinched. The gunman pulled away. Prompto had shot Ardyn in the stomach.

Doubled over, he peered up at Prompto. “Ow.” The undying man stated curtly. He looked disappointed. 

Prompto only shrugged.

“Habit.”

  
  


-

It wasn’t always like this.

It was a fact that Prompto kept reminding himself of, even after what was almost a decade. It shouldn’t have surprised him to find the man waiting for him in his caravan after a long hunt. But it always did, no matter where Izunia turned up.

“You.”

It was the most he would greet the cursed man, quickly moving on to strip his vest off, caked in blood.

“Me.”

It was the most he would get in reply. There was no reason in asking why he had turned up, as there was never any real reason he had been given over the past nine and a half years. Although Prompto had his theories, none of them were any he wished to dwell on any longer than he had to. And so Prompto went about his business as if he were alone, rinsing off the blood from the fabric before hanging it up to dry. They sat in a cold familiar silence, that was, until Ardyn broke it. As usual.

“I have missed-”

“No. Don’t. Not right now.” Prompto turned to him then, testingly, meeting his eyes briefly before moving on to his boots.

“I have missed the sun.” Ardyn finished, looking at him pointedly.

“Please.”

The man casually took off his hat and coat, laying them over the back of a chair.

“To feel it’s warmth.”

“Please,” Prompto’s voice broke, staring at Ardyn with wide, exhausted eyes, “I can’t do this.”

Every time they were alone, it felt as if they were the only two beings in existence. 

Prompto hated it.

Ardyn acquiesced, falling back into a sullen silence. Coming to stand before him, they stared at each other. Countless unspoken words hung like chains around them, twisting and tightening around them over the course of years. Hushing the other, Prompto moved slowly, pulling a camera out of his pocket. He pointed off to the side, and Ardyn knew well enough to follow with his gaze. Cold light streamed through the caravan window, hitting red hair with a soft silhouetted glow. With a soft click of the shutter, the photographer captured his subject in a state of darkened solemn contemplation. 

Prompto loved the lighting, at least. 

What he couldn’t know was that it would be the ancient creature’s last photograph.

-

  
  
  


Standing before the throne room’s gates, Prompto was again surrounded by the epic murals of Lucius’ past. Beside him, his best friends. His King. After years of waiting, after years of darkness, this was what they had been waiting for. 

This was the end.

There was something so final about passing over his cherished collection of photos from over the years. The cycle complete. As Noctis searched through the faded images, an odd feeling struck Prompto as he coveted the knowledge of another stack of photographs, tucked away and buried with the rest of the file folders, tea, and his other belongings. Photographs taken in the dark.

Things would never be like this again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! It's taken me three years to work on this, and I'm glad to say that it's finally done. While there's always more I think can be done with it, this tells the exact story that I set to write when I began it. I hope you enjoyed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I expect to be posting more chapters sooner than later.


End file.
